CHAPTER 8
The first thing Dusty did when he got home was rip off the perforated edges of his paycheck and take a look at it. HE KNEW HOW TO READ A PAYCHECK. He knew what "gross" meant and he knew what "net" meant. The thing he didn't like was 25% of his weekly checks going to taxes and leaving him with a paycheck of $275.00. Seven years of breaking his back for a stair company and his high school buddies were doing just as well washing dishes and running cash registers.What a freaking joke He thought to himself. A lot of his high school classmates were getting married and getting all sorts of tax breaks which Dusty didn't really think was fair. As if being forced to be single because of his looks didn't really suck did the Feds have to maliciously dig their claws into his paycheck just because he had no other mouths to feed? How was he to move forward with HIS life?
He crumpled up his paycheck and tossed it into the garbage where it belonged. He had direct deposit so he'd still get the money from it anyways. His next move was to make his way to the toilet and relieve some after work stress. Nothing like a nice healthy shit after work where you can squeeze it all out in one pinch because it's finally nice and quiet. Unfortunately that was hardly the case for Dusty because he had forgotten about the saturated deep fried wings he had eaten on his lunch break.
When he felt things starting to burn he reached over for some toilet paper but all he felt was an empty cardboard roll. Nothing like a rainy day at work and now this. He desperately groped around his pockets hoping to find maybe a Kleenex when he pulled out a business card from his jeans pocket.
DIRTY BIRD IS ON THE LOOSE
34.568456743 -76.764899054
What the hell did that mean? Some kind of stupid prank?
He fondled the business card for quite a bit but came to realize it wouldn't do much help using it to wipe. He stretched out as far as he could without getting up from the toilet seat and found that he could stretch his arm out far enough to reach for the Kleenex box on the sink. Suddenly he felt the vibration from inside his pants. His cellphone was buzzing.
A strange out of state number was shown at the top of the text balloon followed by a text message all in Capitol letters that said "I KNOW YOU LIKE GIRLS DUSTY...THERE WILL BE GIRLS THERE I PROMISE...I'M GOING TO PAY YOU A LOT OF MONEY TO HANG OUT WITH THEM AND WORK FOR ME.... - DIRTY B
Dusty was completely creeped out. How did they have his number? Who was Dirty Bird? What kind of work? All he knew how to do was make deliveries and maybe a little prior experience flipping burgers from previous jobs. Who was the strange man in the suit that gave him the business card? He had so many questions and no answers. He texted back the unrecognized number.
"What the hell is this? Some lame kind of joke? I don't get it."
His cellphone buzzed once again.
"It's no joke...R U in? I need a handful of loyal employees to work entry level jobs on my Island."
Dusty texted back: "What island?"
"Miller Island"
Dusty chuckled at what he was convinced was a prank. He simply had to play this out for his own amusement.
"Yeah right. Will there be beer there?"
"Yes. Plenty of beer for all my employees. Don't let me down Dusty."
The battery died on his phone and he had no intentions of quickly recharging it. He noticed a shoelace coming undone and when he pulled on it the lace ripped apart. He got so mad he flushed the piece of shoe lace down the toilet. He heard the kitchen door swing open and recognized his mother's voice from out in the kitchen.
"Dusty! The rent is due today. I didn't see anything lying under the lamp. And oh...we have to have a little talk about moving your bedroom to the downstairs. You're Aunt is coming to live with us for a little while and she's allergic to the dampness downstairs."
Dusty pulled the business card from his pocket and looked at the numbers on it once again.
Girls and Beer on the Island?